


Soft Landing

by jk_rockin



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Rough Sex, Unofficial Sequel, teenage douchebags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jk_rockin/pseuds/jk_rockin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Dave are friends now. Kurt's dating Blaine. Surely that means their ridiculous sexual tension will just disappear, right?</p><p>A non-official Kurt/Dave followup to Pixolith's extremely filthy Tender Meat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Landing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pixolith](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Pixolith).
  * Inspired by [Tender Meat](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/5010) by Pixolith. 



> Some time ago, Pixolith wrote the extrememly excellent and very filthy [Tender Meat](http://kurtships.livejournal.com/115336.html). This will make very little sense if you have not read that. I fell in love with it, and started working on a sequel; now it's done I can de-anon and actually show it to people. Hopefully this doesn't suck, and Pixo will like it. (I'm also quietly hoping she does eventually write the Kurt/Dave/Finn sequel she initially had in mind.)

It's the element of surprise that gets Dave off balance; Kurt would never be able to drag him anywhere otherwise. Dave didn't see him coming, but once Kurt gets a hold of his sleeve he just lets Kurt haul him into the empty classroom and shut the door behind them.

"What is it now, Hummel?"

"What now?" Kurt spits. "You have been invisible for weeks. When I do see you you're monosyllabic and frankly rude, and you're asking me 'what now, Hummel' like I'm the one being tiresome?"

"It occur to you that maybe it's none of your goddamn business?" Dave's face is dark, his mouth pinched. He looks seriously pissed- last year it might have put Kurt off, but Kurt's not afraid of Dave anymore.

"Does it occur to you that maybe I'm asking because I care?"

"Psh, yeah," Dave snorts, "you're a regular fucking humanitarian. That's why you're dragging me around. You care." He rolls his eyes. "That's why you pressured your pansy boyfriend to give up private school to follow your ass around too- because you _care_."

Kurt blinks. "I- what? What does Blaine have to- that's what you're upset about? _Blaine?_ "

Dave huffs, crossing his arms, and says nothing.

"Blaine hasn't done anything to you. He knows you and I are friends, he's fine with it."

"Alright, then, as your friend," Dave says, "you're being a selfish dick."

"Excuse me?"

"A selfish dick." Dave shakes his head. "Look, I don't know what Douchebag Academy is like, but it's gotta be better than here. You got him to give up private school, all his friends, to go to a shitty state school where kids toss you in dumpsters and throw slushies at you. Because you want your magical senior year."

Kurt's mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

"Besides which," Dave continues, "I guess you wanting to let your freak flag fly is admirable or whatever, but how well do you think your boy's gonna take it when some asshole from the team lets slip that they know what a slut you are?"

It's like getting slushied; Kurt goes cold, then hot all over. He hadn't forgotten- how could he- but he'd sort of pushed it to the back of his mind. He'd put the bizarre (incredible, his downstairs brain supplies, mindblowing) experience in the locker rooms down to a freak storm or temporary hypnotism and left it as a very sexy anomaly in his past. About which he occasionally fantasises when he's having alone time. Whatever. The football team are belligerently civil to him now, and Dave's his friend. His usually polite, sometimes dryly sarcastic friend. "Don't resort to name-calling, David. What happened to 'what happens in the locker room stays in the locker room'?" Kurt folds his arms, trying to hide how his hands shake.

"Yeah, that's gonna hold up great when you're walking the halls holding hands," Dave says, eyebrows quirking. "I'm pretty sure Z and Rashad will be cool, but Strando? The others? Jesus." He shakes his head. "Keeping your boy chill is gonna cost you a lot in blowjobs, is all I'm saying."

Kurt's already pink, but there's no hiding how red he goes. Dave stares at him, dumbfounded. "No fucking way. Come on, you've at least sucked his dick already, right?"

Kurt sputters and stammers, trying to find words. "We- Blaine and I, um, we haven't. I-" he breaks off, voice going quiet. "He thinks I'm a virgin."

"Oh, that's healthy."

"What was I supposed to do?" Kurt snaps. "Oh, by the way, Blaine darling, this one time I let an entire football team fuck me! Sorry I didn't mention it earlier, it slipped my mind!"

"Maybe you should own up," says Dave, smirking. "Maybe he'd like knowing his innocent boyfriend is a huge slut."

"Shut up," Kurt hisses. The door's closed, everyone's at lunch, but there's still a chance someone might overhear them. The last thing Kurt needs is this getting out.

"What, you think he'll mind? He'll probably be ecstatic at the chance you might finally put out."

"Shut up right now," says Kurt. His voice wobbles. "And don't call me that, either."

"Don't call you a slut?" Dave moves closer, backing Kurt towards the door. "I've seen you take cock, Hummel. I've seen you suck cock like you're dying for it. You are a born cockslut, no matter how high and mighty you act. Your prep school boy might not know it yet, but I do."

Kurt can feel the heat in his cheeks, and coiling low in his belly. He can feel his breath going shallow. When he looks at Dave, he sees the heat in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders and the way his chest rises and falls. His mouth is dry. He lifts his chin. "You're just jealous."

Dave snorts a laugh. "He wouldn't know what to do with you," he says, voice rough.

Kurt tries, valiantly, to keep his eyes on Dave's face- to not stare at his shoulders, at his broad chest, or his crotch. Tries to remember that Dave is his friend, now. "And you do?"

Dave's eyes are very, very dark. His chest is very broad. "You're damn right I do," he says, low, rumbling. He licks his lips.

The air is very still.

Like a spell breaking, Dave drops his head, looking away. His eyes squeeze shut, and he sighs. "You know what, Kurt," he says, "it is really, really hard to be a good guy around you."

Before Kurt can stop him, he's pushing past him and barrelling out the door.

\------

They don't talk for another couple of days. Dave's not quite as invisible- he walks Kurt to his classes if he's going the same direction, but in silence. Kurt still goes to class and sits with the glee kids at lunch like nothing's wrong, pretending he's too busy listening to Blaine to watching Dave out of the corner of his eye like a creep.

Finn's the first to notice something's up. He doesn't say anything at school, but he waits 'til after glee practice- at which Kurt sits staring into space and is silent, even when Rachel launches into one of her Andrew Lloyd Webber rants- when he and Kurt are alone in Kurt's car, going home.

"So, are you and Karofsky, like, not friends again? Cause he's still being cool. Did he do something?"

"No, we just." Kurt sighs. "We just had a disagreement."

"Oh." Finn stretches his arms, idly. "What about?"

Kurt tries really hard not to blush. "Nothing," he says. "Nothing serious." At Finn's sceptical look, he despairs a little- when did he become so transparent he couldn't lie to Finn, of all people? But that's not really fair. Finn might not be all that academic, but he's weirdly insightful about some things. "We argued about Blaine."

Finn's brow furrows. "Like, how you're dating him?"

"About Blaine to coming to McKinley," Kurt admits. "He thinks he only transferred because I was being selfish."

"You kind of were, dude," Finn says. Kurt glares at him, but he just shrugs. "I get it, you want your boyfriend around. It's not a bad thing. But, like," his face scrunches, like he feels bad for what he's about to say, "Dalton's a really fancy private school, and the Warblers are really good. Blaine had friends there. McKinley kind of sucks, and I don't know if you noticed, but people have kind of been dicks to him, and not just 'cause he's in glee."

"That's exactly what Dave said," Kurt sighs.

"Well, he's got a point, dude," says Finn. He drums his hands on his knees a little. "You're gonna stop fighting, though, right? Karofsky's kind of cool now he's not being an asshole. And if he's giving you good boyfriend advice even though he, y'know, hates your boyfriend, he's gotta be a good friend."

Kurt looks at Finn quizzically. "Dave hates Blaine?" That doesn't make sense. How could anyone hate Blaine? Blaine's like a puppy- a handsome puppy with an excellent range, but still- and, okay, he and Dave don't have the best history, but Dave barely even _knows_ Blaine.

"Uh, yeah, he does," says Finn, slowly, like Kurt is stupid. "He's in love with you."

Kurt goes hot all over again. He pulls over, switching the engine off- they're only a couple of blocks from home but this conversation takes precedence because _what_. "He's what?"

"Dude, Karofsky's super gay for you," Finn says. "He's always staring at you with, like, hearts in his eyes when he's walking you places. Or looking at your ass, or your mouth, or- did you seriously not know this?" He cocks his head, giving Kurt the Confused Puppy face.

Kurt needs a minute. Yes, he knows Dave's gay, so naturally he'd be checking Kurt out- Kurt's well worth looking at, he's fabulous. And he knew Dave liked him, because there's no Santana forcing him to watch over Kurt now; they hang out by choice, if only at school. But what Finn's saying, that can't. Dave can't.

Finn's watching Kurt as he has his little crisis. He puts a hand on Kurt's shoulder, comforting. "You're a really smart guy, Kurt," he says, gently, "but you can be sorta dumb about people."

Kurt makes a noise approximating a laugh, and presses the heels of his palms against his eyes. The headache he's been carrying around since his fight with Dave- a big nasty knot of tension between his eyebrows- feels like his brain is eating itself. "Blaine's amazing. He's smart, charming, talented, well-dressed. I love him," he says, knowing it's true. Blaine is wonderful. "So why can't I sleep with him?"

Finn gawks at him, open-mouthed. "You haven't yet? You've been dating for months."

"I know!" Kurt wails. "And I think I want to, it's just. Blaine's so sweet. He thinks I'm a virgin. How am I supposed to-"

"Tell him you love getting fucked?"

"I have got to stop bringing you warm milk, you ass," Kurt grumbles, but when he looks up, Finn's face is guileless. He sighs. "Yes. We haven't gone past touching. He thinks I'm not ready, but I'm just terrified I'll go too fast and freak him out."

"Listen," says Finn. "I know you care about him, but maybe you and Blaine aren't- okay. Just, say, can you picture him bending you over the couch and sticking his fingers in you?"

Blushing a little, Kurt tries. The sensation, that's no problem- he thinks about spreading his legs as his pants come off, about arching up into the pressure, but when he thinks about Blaine, it's gone. He gets as far as Blaine's sexy face, which is sort of like his intense singing face but a little squintier, and he tries, but really, it's just not happening.

"I cannot break up with him," he says. "I can't. He's a wonderful boyfriend. He's sweet and compassionate and he just transferred. I can't do this to him."

Finn shrugs. "Then you probably need to talk to him."

Kurt rolls his eyes, and starts the car.

\----

Blaine comes over on Friday afternoon. He's staying the night, like he does most weekends, so he's got his little attache with his pajamas and tomorrow's clothes. They watch _Hairspray_ , because Blaine worships Zefron, and Kurt could watch James Marsden for hours. They talk about school, and glee, and clothes, they have dinner with Burt and Carole and Finn, and really, it's great. It's always great, hanging out with Blaine.

They go to Kurt's room and study, pausing for kisses- nothing tongue-y, the door's open- and eventually, it's bedtime. Kurt and Blaine have been having sleepovers all summer, so it's okay for Blaine to sleep on Kurt's fold-out couch, though Burt still does blanket checks in the mornings. They're exchanging their goodnight kiss- well, goodnight kisses; Kurt likes kissing- when Blaine pulls back, looks at Kurt with big, serious eyes, and pauses.

"Let me preface this by saying that I adore you," Blaine says. "I think you're amazing."

"Do go on."

Blaine huffs a laugh, biting his lip. "I had a really awesome summer with you, and McKinley's surprisingly fun. You're funny, and talented, and we always have a blast together." He smiles, and covers Kurt's hands with his. "I think we should break up."

"What?"

"We've been dating for months," Blaine says. "I'm in your bedroom, your parents are asleep, and if we weren't having this conversation, we'd be going off to sleep in separate beds, instead of sneaking in together. I like being around you, I love it, but it's been months of sleepovers and we still haven't done more than touch one another."

"Blaine, I," Kurt stammers, face scarlet. "It's- it's not that I don't _want_ to, I, I just-"

"I think it is that you don't want to," Blaine interrupts gently. "And that's okay. I don't want to either."

Kurt opens his mouth, closes it again, and stares.

"You're gorgeous, and I think you're really, really great, and I am interested in sex. I'm just not, as it turns out, that interested in having sex with you, and I'm pretty sure you're not interested in sex with me."

Exhaling slowly, Kurt looks down at their hands on the comforter. He doesn't trust himself to speak, just yet.

"If you're not interested at all, or not ready, that's okay too," Blaine continues, rubbing a thumb over Kurt's wrist. "I'm not breaking up with you because of- well, not exclusively the sex thing. It's- we make amazing friends." He pats Kurt's hand. "We're... not amazing boyfriends. We're both so busy we barely have time for each other, and now we go to school together, the only reason is we're not really trying. I want to be your friend again, Kurt."

Launching forward, Kurt hugs Blaine, as hard as he can. "Have I ever told you you're the sweetest guy in the world?"

"Maybe once or twice," Blaine laughs. "You're not upset?"

Only when Blaine asks does Kurt realise his eyes are wet. He wipes them on his sleeve, shaking his head. "I'm a little disappointed that ours was not a romance for the ages, but I think, I think you're right." He takes Blaine's hands in his, leaning their foreheads together. "Let's just promise that our lack of electrifying sexual chemistry never stops us being best gays for life."

Blaine laughs again. "Deal."

\----

No, Kurt doesn't run straight out and start screwing around. Not that he wants to. He indulges in a bit of why-me crying after Blaine goes home on Saturday, but only a little, and everyone else seems to take it well. His dad goes a little crinkly in the forehead when they make the announcement at breakfast, but Kurt's so obviously fine he just nods, then frowns again when Finn makes Blaine bump fists with him. He texts Mercedes, who calls him right back and seems somehow disappointed at the missed opportunity for breakup drama, and five minutes after he hangs up he has eight texts- Rachel, Santana, the mass text Mercedes sent everyone in glee ( _OMG blainurt broke up but kurts like nbd maybe finn brainwashed him???_ ) Puck, Finn (objecting to Mercedes' text) Tina, Brittany and Artie- waiting for responses. He reads them in order, taps out a mass reply- _I'm fine, he's fine, Finn hasn't reprogrammed me, nothing to see here_ \- and ignores his phone beeping in favour of treating himself to a deep facial cleanse.

By Monday the drama's died down. He and Blaine share an awkward moment in the parking lot, where each of them goes to kiss the other hello, tries to figure out if that's appropriate, and then dissolves into giggles, but by the time they split to go to homeroom, it's clear nothing's really changed. They really are great friends.

All in all, it's feeling very much like everything's coming up Kurt. It seems almost silly, that it was so easy to break up with his first boyfriend and have let's-stay-friends go so smoothly. He's so used to constant drama that this, this easy transition from boyfriends back to best gays, seems like there must be more. Like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So it should really not have been a surprise when, during the passing period after AP English, Kurt bumps into Dave Karofsky, their eyes lock, and Kurt hears that other shoe go _thump_.

"I heard you dumped your dreamboat," Dave remarks, nudging their shoulders together.

"Oh, god." Kurt rolls his eyes. "I can only imagine what you heard."

"Perez Ben Israel has footage up already," says Dave idly, turning into a corridor. "Your boy says it was all very amicable, you respect one another immensely, and he denies allegations of, quote unquote, mass gay conversion plans."

Kurt buries his face in his hands.

"He's got over a thousand views on YouTube." Dave stops outside his physics classroom, and puts a hand on Kurt's elbow. "Seriously, though, you're okay?"

"I'm fine," says Kurt, and he means it- he's mostly too busy trying to ignore the bolt of heat that shot through him when Dave put a hand on him. This is stupid. He cannot get turned on in a hallway on his way to Algebra. "It was mutual. Everyone else has been way weirder about it than we have."

Dave nods, thoughtful. "He, uh. He said you just make better friends." His thumb rubs a slow circle on Kurt's arm, rumpling the cotton of Kurt's shirt. This is stupid. Touching his elbow is not sexy. "A matter of chemistry, he said."

This is so stupid. Kurt clears his throat. "Um. Yes. Better as friends." Dave is looking at him, eyes concerned, seemingly unaware of the way his fingers are pressing into the soft back of Kurt's elbow. The bell rings, and they both jump. "Algebra!" Kurt says, loudly. "I've got to get to- I'm running late."

Dave lets go of his arm. They stand, looking at one another for another long moment, until someone barges past, and then Kurt's running to get to class before he's tardy.

\----

That- that kind of thing, the long moments of staring and inadvertent touching- it happens a lot. It used to happen before The Breakup, a little bit, but there was a reason, then, to stop. Now it's just two friends who happen to be gay, who see one another at school and happen, occasionally, to gaze into one another's eyes and have Moments in between classes.

Kurt sort of wants to bang his head against a wall.

After a week or two his resolve crumbles and he goes to Blaine about it. Ex-boyfriend or no, he loves to give advice, and he's Kurt's gay lifeline in the tragic sea of heterosexuality that is McKinley. So over coffee he spills the relevant details- leaving out the dirty parts, which is not easy, they're sort of key- of how his tentative friendship with Dave Karofsky appears to have blossomed into a weird sexually tense staring match.

Blaine, to his credit- when he stops laughing, at least- doesn't make a big deal of it. He lets Kurt monologue about how much Dave's changed; about how guilty he feels, thinking of starting something so soon after the breakup; about crushing on a guy who used to smack him around. Blaine listens patiently, nodding and sipping his coffee as appropriate.

"I really hope," he says, when Kurt pauses for breath, "you talked about me this much before we got together."

"Oh, I did," Kurt sighs. "Mostly about how dreamy you were, and how we were destined to fall in love and live in an Art Deco loft in Tribeca. It was nice."

Blaine smiles at him, a little ruefully. "You probably didn't pause every so often to mention my eyes and my big hands and how tall and broad I am, though."

"Ugh, I'm such a hussy." Kurt groans, burying his face in his hands. "I think I'm less bothered by being attracted to him than I am by the notion of liking him romantically. Is that awful?"

"No, I get that," Blaine nods. "You can't help who you're attracted to, Kurt. That you're starting to see Dave in a romantic light, though? I understand why you have reservations."

"I know, right? I mean, Dave's not a bad guy now, but what if he gets mean again? What if I have Stockholm Syndrome? Maybe I've been hypnotized, or- stop laughing."

Blaine coughs, trying to suppress the fit of giggles, and grabs Kurt's hand. "It's sort of unfair that I'm the one who gets to tell you this, Kurt," he says, "but you are allowed to have a crush on Dave Karofsky. He's not a creep anymore, you find him attractive, and you're both single. It's okay if you like him."

"Maybe it's just a physical thing," Kurt muses, playing with the lid of his cup. "There's definitely- this is so awkward, are you sure you don't mind?" Blaine shakes his head. "There is definitely chemistry."

"You mean how you undress each other with your eyes all the time? I noticed," Blaine says. "This is weird. I should be getting mad, or jealous, or something, shouldn't I?"

Smiling, Kurt squeezes his fingers. "You don't have to play the jilted lover. Advice Blaine was being very helpful."

"Oh, well, in that case." Blaine finishes the dregs of his coffee, grimacing theatrically. "Maybe it's just attraction, maybe you like him romantically. Have you thought about what it might be like? Dating him?"

Kurt's first thought is Dave's hand on his elbow, big and warm. He thinks about the little grin Dave wears when he gets something right, and the crease he gets between his eyebrows when he concentrates, and how his eyes follow Kurt, no matter who else is in the room. It used to be creepy. Karofsky watching him used to herald pain, but now Dave's eyes on him, his little nods of acknowledgment even when they don't talk, feel like comfort, not warning. It's nice.

When he looks up, Blaine is watching him with an expression that's half fond, half smirk, and he pats Kurt's hand again. "Okay," he says. "Now I'm a little jealous."

\----

Kurt does some more thinking about dating Dave Karofsky. Not to the exclusion of his other activities- he's still learning Officer Krupke's lines, running his Student Council campaign, doing his homework. He's just... also thinking about Dave.

It's kind of nice, actually. There's none of the he-likes-me-he-likes-me-not turmoil, for one thing, so it's just nice to walk down the hall with him, to sit with him in the library, idly pondering how it would be to be doing these friendly things and boyfriendly things. There's so much going on that the simple thrill of having a crush is worth drawing out a little. Maybe it's egotistical to think of it as delaying the inevitable, but hey, Kurt's got an ego, and he and Dave have never been able to ignore one another.

He maybe plays it up a little. He leans close, looks up through his lashes, bites his pen. It’s worth it to watch Dave’s eyes go hooded. The reassurance that his sex appeal is in fact appealing to someone does wonders, and, again, Kurt can’t resist being a little bit of a bitch. He’ll make a move eventually, but finding out how much it takes to crack that resolve is fun.

Apparently, it takes a lot. Dave gives him a lot of looks like he wants to try something, but always bites his lip and says nothing. Back in the day Kurt would have been overjoyed at Karofsky developing impulse control; clearly Kurt is some kind of masochist, because now he’s got it, the perverse urge to rile him up is stronger than ever.

Whatever. He’s safe. It’s not like Dave is about to drag him into a dark corner and ravish him, so wishing he would, while definitely perverse, is harmless.

After another week of staring and flirting (and far more time alone in his room than is really appropriate) Kurt is pretty much done. He is over polite and friendly. If Dave is just going to keep on looking at him with that hungry, wolfish expression and doing nothing about it, Kurt will have to take matters into his own hands.

He plans carefully. Arranging to study at Dave’s when Mr Karofsky won’t be home, that’s a snap- he just complains about Finn’s drum practice making the house too loud to study, turns on the big eyes, and Dave does the rest. He guilts Rachel into covering for him, spends an hour crafting an outfit that perfectly balances sexy and approachable, showers, and agonises over his hair before settling on a subtle upsweep and light-hold hairspray.

On his way out the door, he tucks one of his for-emergencies condoms into his wallet. He’d like to think he’s not going to need it, but lofty notions about his ability to keep his head around Dave Karofsky don’t trump playing it safe.

And it was a smart idea, too, because Dave answers the door in a soft blue tee shirt and old jeans, looking so thoroughly lickable Kurt has to lean on the doorframe a little bit. He follows Dave into the kitchen, where he’s got his textbooks out on the table, and thanks his lucky stars he had the presence of mind to actually bring his books.

They get some work done. Kurt vagues his way through it, unable to focus past the way the fabric of Dave’s shirt stretches over his shoulders, and how cute he looks when he’s concentrating. It’s embarrassing. Actively thinking about Dave while actually in the same room seems to be more stimulus than Kurt’s hormone-addled brain can handle, and he’s reduced to blushing and trying not to say anything stupid.

“Okay, what?” Guiltily, Kurt tears his eyes away from Dave’s arms, and looks up to find Dave staring at him.

“What?”

“Hummel, are you drunk?” Dave drops his pen, exasperated. “You’ve been weird as hell all night.”

“I’m not _drunk_ , David,” Kurt says. “I’m fine. I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play prissy,” Dave says. “You- look, did I do something? Say something? You won’t so much as look me in the eye, lately, and last I checked we were-” he breaks off, looking down at his hands. “Friends or whatever.”

“Oh, Dave,” says Kurt, “we are, of course we are. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then what?” Dave leans forward, expression earnest. Here’s Kurt’s chance- the moment is perfect, dramatic and cathartic and all Kurt can think is _you’re stupidly hot and when I look at you I’m usually trying to not think about your dick. Whoops, there I go again._

Mercifully, all that comes out when he opens his mouth is “I- um.”

Dave stands up sharply, mouth tight. “Screw this,” he says. “You won’t tell me, fine. You should probably go home.”

“Dave, please don’t,” Kurt stammers, getting up to step closer. He’d had all of this planned; had a very moving speech written out and parts of it memorised, but in the face of the misery rolling off Dave, he can’t remember a word. “We’re friends. I just, when we talk, I-”

“You just look everywhere but my face. That’s normal, right?” Dave’s face twists. “You get this weird freaked-out look on your face and stop talking, because you know how I- because you know-” He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “You know I have this huge stupid crush on you, and it freaks you out, because you think I’m still a total creep.”

Kurt can’t help it- he starts laughing. He tries too stop when he sees Dave’s face fall even further, but he’s still giggling a little as he moves in close, putting his hands on Dave’s shoulders. “Sorry,” he gasps, “but- oh, what the hell,” and he leans in and kisses him. Dave makes a muffled noise and kisses him back.

“Between you and Blaine, you’re gonna give me a complex,” Kurt mumbles against his lips. “That’s not a freaked-out face, you jerk, that’s me being turned on.”

Dave pulls back, looking at him incredulously. “If this is a joke, it’s fucked up,” he says.

“Not a joke,” Kurt says. “I didn’t know you liked-me liked me, though. I thought you just wanted- and I want, definitely, and I think I like you back? You know what, this isn’t working, let’s just.” He kisses Dave again, because that seems to work better than talking.

"Don't be a tease," Dave says, and Kurt hears the thickening in his voice, how serious he is.

"Who says I'm teasing?" Kurt sways closer, trying to kiss him again- it's so much easier when they're _not talking_ , why is Dave still talking? "Come on, I want to-"

"You want to what?" Even like this, even now they're friends (and Kurt is those magical few inches taller) Dave can't help but loom a little bit, can't help but crowd him. Only now it doesn't feel like a threat. It feels promising. "Want to suck my dick in front of a dozen guys? Want to come on my cock so hard you practically black out and then treat me like I don't exist? Or is that too last year for you?"

Kurt swallows roughly, itchingly aware of how suddenly he’s hard, just from this. From the kisses, the anticipation of more, the way Dave's standing over him and talking dirty in this rough, low voice, so unlike the Dave who walks him to class and makes jokes in the cafeteria. He tries to clear his throat.

"Well, guess what, there's only you and me here," Dave snaps. "And this may surprise you, Hummel, but I'm not a fucking sex toy. You want this, you better fucking mean it."

And now Kurt gets it, gets what Dave means by the looks and the huge stupid crush. He wants Kurt. Doesn't just want to hold his hand, doesn’t just want to fuck him, but _wants_ him; that dorky math geek, walking-to-class Dave and growly-rough-sex-voice Dave are the same guy, and that guy wants him. It’s heady knowledge.

"You talk so much, oh my god," Kurt says, voice low, and he slides his fingers into Dave's hair and kisses him, hard as he can, trying to make it clear- he means it. He really does. The kiss is long, slow and dirty, all teeth clacking and noses rubbing, but it feels, under the spine-tingling good of quality makeouts, like he's making himself heard. Kurt's arms wind around Dave's neck, Dave's hands clench on Kurt's upper arms, and they press together, over and over, kissing and kissing and kissing.

They pull apart, breathless. "If we do this, don't think you're just walking out," Dave growls, fingers tight on Kurt's arm. It kind of hurts. Kurt kind of likes it. "I'm gonna make you go on dates and shit. Dress nice and meet my parents. The whole nine yards." His expression is grave. Finn might see hearts in Dave's eyes when he looks at Kurt, but all Kurt sees is that wanting; like he's wondering what Kurt tastes like- no. Like he knows, and he wants another bite.

"I always dress nice," Kurt murmurs.

"I'm not fucking around." Dave's brow furrows. "Dates. Parents. Your friends- the whole goddamn school- knowing you're mine."

Heat sparks in Kurt's stomach. Dave's hands are still curled around his biceps; he's still pressed up close, the warm bulk of him leaning into Kurt's space. It makes it hard to think. "Should I be taking notes?"

"Don't be a smartass. I want to be your boyfriend." And he looks shocked to have said it out loud, but that's okay. Kurt's a little shocked too.

"Take me upstairs, then, boyfriend," he says, tugging gently on Dave's hair. "I want to."

\----

The trip upstairs takes a while- they keep pausing to make out- and when they get to his room, they don’t even bother to turn the light on. Kurt’s too busy with Dave’s hands on him to care. They tumble onto the bed, and really, Kurt is on board with the kissing plan, with Dave on top of him, but he’s still Kurt Hummel, so. He sits up, ignoring Dave trying to yank him back.

"I'm not making out with socks on," Kurt sniffs. "I've got standards." Dave laughs, toes his socks off, and idly watches Kurt removing his. When Kurt turns back, Dave’s turned on his bedside lamp and is lying back on the pillows, legs spread a little, one knee up. It’s a good look. It gives him ideas. He moves forward, on his knees, into the vee of Dave’s spread legs, and leans down to kiss him again, hands on his chest.

Which is nice. It’s really very nice. Dave pulls his hips closer; he can feel how hard he is against his thigh, and how he’s trying to keep still. “Can I,” he finds himself saying, as his hands go to Dave’s belt, “I know we just, but I want-” and Dave’s saying yeah, yeah, please, and helping Kurt get his jeans open, still kissing him. Kurt scoots backwards on his knees, leaning in, nuzzling the warm cotton of Dave’s shirt, until he hits bare skin.

Kurt looks down at Dave's erection. Just as big as he remembers, just as thick; a little more intimidating in Dave's bedroom than it was as the finale to his locker room escapade. Without the well-fucked fuzz of sex humming in him, he finds himself hesitating. He licks his lips nervously.

"Despite what you might think, it's been a little while, so."

"Want me to be gentle with you, Hummel?" Dave grunts, aiming for mocking, voice thick.

No he doesn't, not particularly, but he gives Dave a snotty look anyway as he licks a stripe up the underside of his cock.

Dave moans, hands moving to cup Kurt's face, watching Kurt slide his mouth over the head, then lower, sucking. He rubs slow, careful circles over Kurt's cheekbones, hips twitching but not pushing. Kurt sucks a little harder, rolling the taste over on his tongue, reflecting as he does that it's probably really twisted to be disappointed that Dave Karofsky is not, without an audience, a jerk in bed. When he pictured this- he's not a saint, he's imagined giving Dave head every way there is even before realising he likes him, and not just his cock- Dave was always rough with him. Like he was before. He'd chalked it up to novelty, or a lingering victim complex, but now he's actually here and Dave's _not_ shoving his cock down his throat, Kurt can't help but feel a little let down.

He pulls off to breathe. "Am I boring you?" Kurt asks, a little raspy.

Dave sits up on his elbows to glare. "Are you bitching me out for being polite?"

Kurt shrugs, carefully casual, licking a slow spiral over the tip of Dave's dick. He slides his mouth lower, takes Dave's hands in his, and places them firmly on the back of his head.

Dave looks down at him, eyes hot and shocked. "You're serious."

Kurt nods. This is probably ill-advised, but he _wants_.

The first push of Dave's hips is glorious. Dave tangles his fingers in Kurt's hair and holds him secure, thighs flexing, and fuck, yes, this, this is what Kurt wanted. The heat of Dave's palms, the steady, inexorable press of his hips- it makes Kurt's eyes water and his lungs burn and it feels so good, all of it. Dave's cock slides between Kurt's lips smoothly as his strokes become less tentative, as he tightens his fingers and _pushes_ , takes, moves Kurt where he wants him.

"Jesus, fuck, your mouth," Dave hisses. "Your pretty fucking slut mouth, Hummel. Look at you, taking it."

Kurt groans, making Dave buck and curse. Kurt had had this idea that he was going to wait to do this, was going to hold off on the sex thing for a while at least but Dave's making these sounds, pushing up; it was so easy to slide to his knees, and now he's here, it's so easy to just open his mouth wider and suck him down as far as he can.

"This what you wanted? This what you were thinking of, looking at me in the halls?" Dave slows down, gripping Kurt by the hair to hold him still. Kurt nods- with Dave's hand in his hair it's more like a jerk, but Dave swears and pushes down anyway, sliding deep and staying. Kurt concentrates on breathing through his nose, on keeping his eyes open, and very deliberately swallows around Dave's cock.

He chokes a little when Dave's hips come off the bed, but the groaning noise it shocks out of Dave makes it worth it; he's particularly proud of how he manages to drag his tongue up the underside even as Dave's pulling him off his cock, hauling him up his body to kiss him.

"I was enjoying that," he says, when he catches his breath between wet, filthy kisses. Dave's hands trail up under his shirt, yanking the buttons open, peeling it off him and throwing it off the bed, and his mouth descends to suck sharply at Kurt's throat.

"I noticed." He mouths at Kurt's collarbone, teeth scraping blunt against the thin skin. "Please let me get you naked."

Kurt nods and murmurs assent, canting his hips up. Dave fumbles a little with his belt, but his hands are steady as they slide into Kurt's underwear, dragging his jeans down his thighs. Kurt's so turned on he's getting dizzy, and the way Dave's looking at him isn't helping- he's flushed, pupils blown, eyes dark and overwhelmed. Now he's naked the nerves set back in, so he presses into Dave, trying to muster a little cool. It's not easy; Dave won't stop touching him, running his hands up Kurt's sides and down over his hips, pressing his mouth along his shoulder. "You're so fucking pretty," he sighs. "The things I want to do to you. Christ."

It's not Shakespeare, but what the hell. It works. Kurt rubs his dick against Dave's jeans, slow. The friction is nice but that's not what he wants now. This feels different, so different to the last time, and while it turns out that being tossed around and called names sort of does it for him, he's still a romance kind of guy, and if he's doing this, he should get to see Dave naked. Or at least get his pants off this time. He slides his hands down to Dave’s jeans and tucks his fingers under his boxers, inching them down.

Dave stills. “You don’t have to,” he starts. “I know I’m not, like, what you- you don’t have to, to be polite or whatever.”

Kurt pulls back to fix him with a glare. “Shut up,” he says. “We may have to agree to disagree on this one, but you’re sort of absurdly hot, Dave. I want to take your pants off. Okay?”

Dave nods mutely, letting Kurt peel his jeans down his legs. He doesn’t actively help, but Kurt’s calling it progress. When his jeans are off, Kurt gets his hands under his shirt, too. Dave looks a little uncomfortable, but he sits up and helps get the sleeves over his arms. Kurt sits back a little, and finally gets a good look at him.

It’s- interesting. He wasn’t purely being mean when he said Dave wasn’t his type. He’s never really looked at anyone built like Dave before- brawny, big everywhere, and hairy, but not in a gross way. His arms, chest and legs are muscled; his skin is slightly olive in the lamplight, but under the tee-shirt line he’s pale, like he doesn’t see a lot of sun, and it makes the dark hair on his chest and his thighs stand out. In comparison to his strong limbs, his belly is a little soft; Kurt surprises himself by kind of liking it. He’s surprised in general, actually, by how different Dave is to what he would have thought he’d want, and how much he wants what he’s seeing, now he’s seeing it.

Dave’s looking at him, uncertain, so Kurt lets himself tip forward and kiss him, laying their bodies together. It’s, wow, okay, intense, all that skin on skin contact. The sensation is incredible. He figures Dave agrees, because he moans, low and rough, and crushes Kurt to him, rolling them over, and that’s incredible too, all that warm naked weight on top of him. Kurt arches his hips, hissing as their cocks rub together, whining a little because he’s pinned under Dave and he can’t move much, which should seriously not be as hot as it is.

He can’t stop moving, can’t stop pushing, can’t stop arching against Dave’s mouth where he’s sucking hot stinging bruises into the skin of his chest. Dave licks over a nipple and his spine practically bends in half, which makes Dave grin, teeth grazing, and bite the other one sharply.

“You’re such a jerk, ugh,” Kurt says, unable to help how stupidly sappy he sounds.

“A jerk, huh?” Dave murmurs, running his hands up Kurt’s thighs, spreading them, leaning back to settle between them on his knees.

“Uh-huh.” Kurt twists his hips up, breath hitching as Dave’s big, warm hand finally, finally curls around his cock. “Definitely.”

“How can I ever make it up to you?” Dave’s broad palm moves, sending shocks of pleasure up Kurt’s spine. Last time they did this- if what happened between them last time is even in the same category, which, frankly, Kurt doubts; that was more like a sexual sparring match. This feels like _sex_ , with Dave actually touching his cock, touching him everywhere, like he wants to get his fingerprints all over Kurt’s skin. And kissing. The kissing is especially nice. Kurt’s hips are moving, riding against Dave’s hand, and he’s thinking about that locker room. Having Dave jerk him off, as excellently as that seems to be going, is not what he wants. It’s not enough.

“I’m sure I, oh, I’m sure I can think of something,” Kurt hums, breathless. He doesn’t miss how Dave’s eyes widen a fraction, how his cock twitches against Kurt’s thigh. “I’m thinking about it right now.”

Dave’s hand stutters on his cock. “What,” he says, voice choked, “what are you thinking about?”

In answer, Kurt puts a hand on Dave’s chest. He drags his thumb roughly over a broad, pink nipple, before running his fingers through thick chest hair, down over his belly, down the trail of dark hair leading to his cock. “This,” he says, stroking his fingers gently over the shaft, flicking his thumb over the head. “I’m thinking about this.”

Dave’s whole body shudders, and his eyes close, like he’s picturing the same thing Kurt’s picturing. His face contorts, briefly, and he opens his eyes to look at Kurt, who’s biting his lip. “You’re sure you want. I mean, we only just- half an hour ago I thought you were still scared of me, and last time I was kind of, well. I’m still kind of a dick,” he mumbles, “but there’s other stuff we can do, if you wanted. I don’t want to push.”

“You’re not pushing,” says Kurt, because _but I like it when you push_ is a) kind of damaged and bears examining if they’re going to take this relationship further and b) likely to freak Dave out, which is not what he wants. “You’re not a dick, and I’m really glad, but I also really, really want you to fuck me again.” He basks in the look on Dave’s face, half-terrified and half-elated.

“I really, really want to fuck you again too,” Dave says, grinning. He leans sideways, keeping his hand on Kurt’s cock as he reaches over to rifle through his bedside drawer, and tosses a bottle of lube and a condom packet onto the bed.

“Presumptuous much?”

“Optimistic,” Dave says, kissing him again. “Spread your legs.” Kurt obliges, feeling his face heat, trying not to feel selfconscious as Dave slicks his fingers with lube and rubs wetly against Kurt’s hole. He doesn’t fuck around, doesn’t draw out the pre-show like Puck did; he gets a hand under Kurt’s ass, hauls him forward for better access, and pushes his index finger in as far as it will go.

Kurt makes a high-pitched noise, and Dave takes that as encouragement, works his finger out and in, firm but gentle, until Kurt’s whining for more. Smirking, he pulls back and twists in a second one, working Kurt open slowly, rubbing and stretching and adding more lube.

“You get this far with Blaine?” he asks, wiggling his fingers. “He get you all spread out like this, make you beg for it?”

“N-no,” Kurt says. “Blaine never, we never- we kissed, but we never did more than touch, I-” He doesn’t know why he’s telling Dave this, doesn’t know why he wants Dave to know that he’s the last person who’s touched him, who fucked him. He seems like maybe he’d like that, but seriously, Kurt does not want to talk about Blaine right now, or think about his and Dave’s bizarrely meshing psychosexual issues.

"He's too fucking nice for you.” A third finger, oh god, the burn is delicious, the stretch now minimal but amazing all the same. “He wanted to wait, right? Wanted to respect your boundaries?"

"He should want that." Kurt is gasping now, achingly hard; Dave's fingers are so _big_ , he can't breathe for the way they fill him up. "I should have wanted him to- oh, fuck, please-"

"When the fuck, Hummel, are you gonna learn that what you _think_ you should want counts for shit? You want what you want. Learn to live with it."

"I want you to fuck me," Kurt pants, hips rolling back onto Dave's fingers.

"An attitude like that will get you far." He goes to roll over, but Dave's hand is on his hip, keeping him in place. "On your back," he says. "I want you looking at my face when I fuck you."

Dave pushes his legs further apart, pressing his thighs up, sliding his fingers in deeper. Kurt's ready, he's more than ready, but the drag of Dave's fingers is so good he can't help but grind down on them, to savor every second as they twist inside him. Dave's face, that's good too- his eyebrows are drawn tight, focused, and he's staring down at Kurt like he wants to remember every detail. Kurt reaches a hand up and yanks Dave down to kiss, to feel his chest moving as he works his fingers in and further in.

“Please,” he says. “Please, come on, I want it.”

“You gonna say it?” Dave’s red-faced, breath coming short, and Kurt can feel the throb of his dick against the back of his thigh, but apparently now he thinks he can get cute.

“Please fuck me,” Kurt finds himself saying. Oh, well. Shame is bourgeois anyway. “Please, Dave, please fuck me,” and that works fine, because Dave is sliding his fingers out and tearing the condom packet, rolling it on, slicking himself with more lube like he can’t get ready fast enough, and finally finally finally spreading Kurt open, nudging against Kurt’s hole.

Kurt bears down. It hurts; he hadn’t fully appreciated until now how stretched he’d been before, how different it would be, but at the same time he’s not as sensitive, so it’s sort of- it’s really good how slow, how careful Dave’s being, and it does hurt but the stretch is amazing. He bites down on a knuckle to ground himself; he can’t tell if he wants Dave to speed up or slow down, if he likes it or wants it to stop, if it’s all of the above. Dave’s got his eyes clenched tight and his hands clamped around Kurt’s upper thighs, holding himself still and pulling Kurt back onto his cock in tiny, careful increments. He feels so much bigger than Kurt remembers, touching and stretching everywhere inside of him.

They both whimper as Dave bottoms out. Kurt sucks in air frantically, trying to claw back his self-control enough to relax, but the second Dave starts to move, he’s shaking and clenching and clutching every inch of him he can grab onto. The burn of Dave pushing into him is intense- he’s so big, and he’s going so slow he’s shaking, too, so he feels every inch.

“Kurt,” Dave is chanting, face buried in Kurt’s neck. “Fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking tight, please, I gotta-” he opens his eyes, taking in Kurt’s flushed face, the tension in the cords of his neck. “Jesus, I’m not hurting you, am I? We can stop.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Kurt chokes out, because no, no, he doesn’t want it to stop. He can feel the pressure all the way up his spine, every nerve alight. Yeah, it hurts, but he twists his hips and the hot, solid weight of Dave inside him is so good it sets him shaking again. “Please, more.”

Brow furrowed, Dave reaches for the lube again, sitting back to run wet fingers around his cock, nudging into Kurt where the skin stretches thin. When he pushes in again it’s easier, but he frowns again and pauses, adding more lube and rubbing under Kurt’s balls, like he’s forgotten it makes Kurt twitch like crazy.

“Come on, stop messing around,” Kurt whines. Dave rolls his eyes, but he pulls Kurt’s knees up to push back in, and this time everything’s so slick his cock just slides right in and hits him everywhere at once. So much better. Kurt’s pushing back before Dave’s even all the way in, too worked up to be embarrassed about the stream of needy, desperate noises pouring out of him. It’s just- it’s so good, the fullness and the friction are so good, and Dave’s scrunched-up, scarlet face is so good. Then Dave’s little concentrating wrinkle is back and he’s hiking Kurt’s legs up higher. The shock that rattles through him when Dave finds his prostate is electric, ridiculous, considering how good he felt already, but suddenly instead of moaning he’s _wailing_ , thrashing around under Dave. He can’t keep still. It won’t last, he knows it won’t; Dave’s grunting and fucking him harder and reaching one of his enormous hands down to pump Kurt’s erection and that’s it, he’s done. He arches off the bed and comes, sobbing, gasping, digging his nails into Dave’s back.

He’s still twitching through the aftershocks when Dave comes, biting down on the soft join of his shoulder and letting out these noises like he’s dying of pleasure. He sags down onto Kurt, licking at the ring of red marks, like he’s apologising with his mouth. Kurt has no idea what he’s apologising for.

After a long minute, Dave pushes himself up and pulls out, patting Kurt’s hip when he winces. “Sorry,” he says, awkward.

“What for?” Kurt stretches out, feeling several significant joints pop. He feels magnificent. “Mmm. That was amazing.”

Dave looks away, taking the moment to peel off the condom and drop it in his wastebasket. He looks pleased, if a little overwhelmed. “Even without Hudson here to jerk you off?”

Kurt laughs, sitting up on his elbows. “Yes. Why, did Finn’s absence bother you? I’m sure if we asked nicely-”

Dave hits him with a pillow, laughing too. “You’re a terrible boyfriend. Already planning threesomes.”

Kurt’s breath catches; Dave is his boyfriend. Kurt is Dave’s boyfriend. Dave asked, and he said yes, and now they’re naked and post-coital and making jokes about threesomes with Finn. He scoots closer and turns Dave’s face to kiss him- just softly, not starting anything. Dave puts his hands on his hips, turning him in his arms and laying him down, pressing against his back.

“I’m all sticky,” Kurt complains, but really, he doesn’t care. He feels too warm to move.

“Don’t care,” Dave replies. He leans over Kurt to turn off the lamp, and hauls the sheets- oh god, the sheets must be a disaster too- over them.

"Are you... cuddling?"

Dave makes a warm, affirmative sound, slinging an arm over Kurt's waist and pulling him close. "Nobody else," he says, muffled against Kurt's shoulder. "Nobody else so much as touches you. Prep school even looks at you sideways, I'll cut his hands off."

"Your pillow talk is so romantic," Kurt mutters. "You have nothing to worry about, but I'm bizarrely touched all the same."

"Hands," Dave insists sleepily. "Cut right off."

Kurt hums, squirms closer, and lets himself sleep.


End file.
